


Saltrock Mornings

by youcantseeus



Series: Wraeththu ficlets [1]
Category: Wraeththu - Storm Constantine
Genre: Fluff, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcantseeus/pseuds/youcantseeus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seel smokes a cigarette on his front porch one morning while looking sexy as hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saltrock Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on another site.

Orien was often able to maintain a state of meditative calm as he walked from his modest Saltrock home to the Nayati. He knew that many hara found it difficult to achieve such a state, but Orien was adept and a bit of a daydreamer. In the past, he had walked right into hara as they industriously went about their duties on Saltrock’s dusty streets.

On a particular day, however, Orien found his trance-like state disturbed by the sight of two very long, completely bare legs which were attached one Seel Griselming. Seel was smoking a cigarette and squinting into the morning sun, his legs dangling off his newly-built porch. Seel’s house was a miniature gothic masterpiece, designed to look hundreds of years old, but as Orien moved toward the house, he could smell the freshly hewn timber.

 

He touched Seel’s bare foot, gently. “Enjoying the morning?” he asked.

 

Seel glared into the sunlight. “Shocking for a Monday, I know,” he said, taking another drag off his cigarette.

 

Orien climbed up to sit beside Seel. “Are those meant to be your clothes or underwear?” Orien asked. Seel was wearing a sort of knitted leotard covered only by a stringy old sleeveless jacket of brown denim. Tantalizing glimpses of his olive-toned skin peeked through the holes in the material.

 

Seel looked down at himself as if just noticing what he was wearing, though Orien knew that Seel spent a great deal of time thinking about frivolous things like clothes and hair and pretty decorations for his house. These were conceits for which Orien forgave him. “I found it at the market,” Seel said, with a shrug. “I thought it looked cool. Why? Do you like it?” This last part was said slyly.

 

Orien felt his face heat up, a reaction for which he chided himself. He was har. He was elevated. He shouldn’t allow Seel to make him feel embarrassed about a skimpy piece of clothing.

 

“It’s okay if you like, you know,” Seel said, as if reading his mind. “It’s just an outfit.”

 

“I know,” Orien said, a bit indignant.

 

Seel tapped the ashes from his cigarette into the desert sand near his feet. “You look nice yourself,” he said with a smile. Seel’s smiles were a bit like pearls in the desert; beautiful and rare.

 

Again, Orien resisted the desire to blush. He had taken the care to actually brush his hair and check himself in the mirror that morning which was more attention than he usually gave his looks. All hara were beautiful so Orien didn’t see the point in devoting more time than necessary to superficial things like appearance.

 

Seel fingered the lining of Orien’s robe thoughtfully. Orien, understanding what Seel wanted, leaned forward and shared breath with his friend.

 

Seel’s mouth tasted like tobacco and the strong, dark coffee he drank, but as always, the substance of his breath, his essence as a har was a complex, rich experience. Seel slid his hands around Orien’s back to embrace him, and Orien did the same, subtly searching for buttons or a zipper on the back of Seel’s garment and finding nothing. How did Seel get in and out of the thing?

 

When Orien finally pulled away, Seel grinned at him, lazily, looking every bit as young as he actually was. Orien had helped or rescued many young hara over the years and he tried not to have favorites, but sometimes that was difficult. Seel was his pet project, his masterpiece. Seel had been incepted into the Uigenna and was still able to become everything a har should be – charismatic, talented, beautiful, adept, dispassionate. Orien had suspected for some time that Thiede might wish to snatch Seel away to the new city he was building – Thiede always took the best hara – but Thiede had shown very little interest in Seel, perhaps because of his Uigenna inception.

 

“Do you want to go inside?” Orien asked. He wanted to search for the buttons to Seel’s leotard more thoroughly.

 

Seel winced. “Flick’s in there.”

 

Orien raised his eyebrows. “He told me you asked him to move in,” he said. “I hope you’re not becoming too attached.”

 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Seel said, but he didn’t seem eager to invite Orien inside for a quick bout of aruna as he’d done countless times in the past.

 

“Good,” Orien said. “Because chesna relationships can become dangerously close. You don’t want to become like Colt and Stringer--”

 

“It’s not even like that,” Seel interrupted. “We have separate bedrooms.”

 

“I see.” Orien thought it wise not to speak about the matter further.

 

“Let me go put on my boots,” Seel said. “We’ll go to your house, okay?”

 

“If you wish,” Orien said.

 

Seel went into his house and moments later he emerged wearing the dusty brown leather boots that he wore around town all the time. His eyes were bright and contained all the secrets of the universe. Seel, unlike many hara, always managed to avoid looking like some punk teenager.

 

Seel locked arms with Orien and peppered their pleasant conversation with semi-flirtatious asides as they walked to Orien’s house. A cool breeze, unusual for Saltrock, blew Seel’s wild hair behind him and he smelled of salt and earth and cinnamon and something else Orien couldn’t quite describe.

 

Orien examined his own feelings of general happiness at Seel’s company and decided that they weren't unhealthy. Mornings like this were what hara lived for.


End file.
